Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. As he crossed this chamber, his foot struck against something on the floor, which nearly threw him down, and stooping to examine the object, he found it was a key. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. “I do not even know who you are.
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